


Kissing Smoke Under the L

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:25:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If actually planting one on Mickey wasn’t an option, Ian would gladly take this, kissing smoke under the L.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kissing Smoke Under the L

“Make me an offer.”

Not a sound.  Mickey barely blinked at Ian’s comment.  He simply side-eyed the red head, taking a pull on his cigarette, his response a blowing of smoke around the randomness of Ian’s words.  He raised his gun and shot just as arbitrarily at the rooftop ROTC obstacle course, his and Ian’s legs dangling off of the old shed.

“You’re staring at ‘em like you wanna own ‘em.”

“The fuck Gallagher?”  Mickey finally spoke, not nearly as puzzled as he was pissed by Ian’s sudden urge to be the fucking Riddler.  “The hell are you gettin’ at?”

“My lips Mick,” Ian started as he turned to face Mickey, bringing his knees to his chest.  “They’re right here.”

“So?”

“Have a go at ‘em.”

So Ian was feeling real ballsy talking to Mickey like this.  Did he think his comment made moments ago was getting to him?  Mickey wasn’t fazed, not by a long shot, and fuck all if Gallagher thought so.    

~~~ 

_“I don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.”_

_“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian responded as he caught his breath.  Mickey ignored his initial response, firing his gun towards the obstacle course – a response via ammunition, bullets piercing through the bullshit, because Ian’s answer clearly was.  Mickey was no idiot.  He knew Ian didn’t have two fucks to give about materialistic things, so what was it…really?  Ian could see Mickey wasn’t buying what he just said, so, what the hell.  “He isn’t afraid to kiss me.”_

_And there it was.  Mickey’s demeanor suddenly changed, the roughness around his edges softening, his head dropping as he cast his eyes downward.  He didn’t mean to react this way because Ian mentioning his one rule breaker was not supposed to make him feel that awful, yet wonderful twisting in his gut._

_What-the-fuck-ever._

_~~~_

Mickey simply scoffed at Ian as he made his way down to the rooftop off of the old shed, or whatever it was they were sitting on.  It was hot as hell, the sun beating off of both boys’ skin, sweat covering almost every inch of their bodies.

“Where you goin’?” Ian asked.

“Home Gallagher.  It’s fucking hot as balls out here.”  The older boy was now standing where Ian previously stood, looking up at him, eyes squinting from the sun.  Now who was on the bullshit?  Ian rolled his eyes, not in any mood to call Mickey out on what was clearly malarkey, and made his way down to the same level.  As they walked down the cement stairs, Mickey could _feel_ Ian staring at the back of his head, hear intermittent grunts and scoffs.  He knew the red head had something to say.  “You got somethin’ to say?”  Mickey was facing Ian now, who was one step above him and had placed his hands behind his head, slightly cocking it back as he smirked.

“You don’t have to be afraid to kiss me ya know.” 

Mickey hates Ian at this point.  The younger boy is taking every inch of silence, each uncertain glance as him wanting to throw out the one decree Mickey is certain he will always abide by – it’s his fucking _law_.  He must admit though, Ian is persistent, which is one thing Mickey truly likes about him, but wouldn’t dare admit out loud.  But law is law; even if Mickey himself is one to never follow them.  _No fucking kissing.  Cease and desist._

When they finally made it to ground level, Mickey took the lead, walking erratically through side alleys as Ian trailed not too far behind.  They walked in awkward silence, Ian not speaking because he knew what he wanted to talk about the older boy didn’t want to hear, and Mickey reciprocating the quiet because he wanted to – at least that’s what he was telling himself.  Ian eventually closed the distance between the two of them, walking side by side, his shoulder brushing Mickey’s ever so often.  They were still cased in silence, and Ian was waiting for Mickey to tell him to give him some space, but the older boy made no qualms about the contact.

And if the hairs on his arms stood at each touch, Mickey told himself it was nothing.

******

“What are we doin’ here?  Thought you were headed home.”

“What do you think Gallagher?” Mickey responded, raising an eyebrow.  “To get a beer.  You thirsty?  Cuz I’m thirsty.”  Ian simply shrugged, following him inside.

After walking for quite some time, the two boys found themselves in front of the Alibi.  Ian had already figured Mickey was prolonging the walk back on purpose, taking extra alleyways they normally skipped, walking down streets that weren’t a part of their shortcut.  Instead of saying anything, he just followed the older boy, letting him take the lead.  Because truth be told, as awkward as it could be at times, Ian enjoyed walking like this with Mickey – in hushed anticipation, words not needed to make the moment.

Inside the bar, they ran into Lip, who was doing his usual schemes and taking of bets.  Today’s event – which drunk could do the most jumping jacks.  As they sat at the bar, Lip spotted them and made his way over to them, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, his hands full of crumpled bills. 

“So what brings you two losers here?” Lip asked, smug as usual.  Mickey shot the older Gallagher a glance, _‘I’ll fuck you up’_ etched in his pale features.  Ian caught it, and responded before Mickey could say anything harsh.

“Nice to see you too Lip,” Ian responded.  Mickey simply scoffed.  Kev made his way over and popped open three beers for the boys.  A loud crash caused them to turn around, the first victim to Lip’s bet falling to the floor, whipped from exhaustion and too much alcohol.  The vagabond didn’t bother moving, instead laid halfway under the table, full plumber’s butt in view, where he would eventually pass out.  Lip laughed at the sight.

“Alright people!  One down, four more to go until one’s left standing!”  Lip turned around too pleased with himself.  Ian shook his head before taking a sip of his beer.

“Is this what you’re doin’ with your life now?” Ian asked sarcastically.

“I’m the one with the shitload of money in my hand.”  Lip began to straighten out the bills on the bar, mostly singles mixed in with fives and tens here and there.  After a few minutes of counting, the total was $153.  Mickey rolled his eyes and huffed at the amount.

“You call that money?” he asked Lip, leaning his head forward to look at him past Ian.

“Last time I checked Mickey, this was our national currency.”  Of course Lip had to be a smartass about it.

“Shit, you could make three times that selling coke.”

“As I’ve said before, I like my conscience clean, thanks.”  Lip then reached inside his pants pocket, and pulled out a sandwich bag full of small bags of weed.  He dangled the merchandise in front of Ian and Mickey, smirking as he did so.  “I like to keep it old school, and with this, my sales are bound to double.  This is some good shit.” 

“The fuck is it?” Mickey asked, curious.

“California Kush.”  Lip then took out two bags and tossed them at the two boys.  “On the house.  I guarantee you’ll be back,” the older Gallagher said satisfied. 

“You got rolling papers? Mickey asked.  Lip reached down in his other pocket, pulling out a flat metal business card holder and opened it, revealing neatly folded rolling papers.  He handed him two.  Ian turned to look at Mickey, clearly hyped they had some good weed to get high off of and was met by his infamous dancing of his eyebrows.  The red head knew that look meant trouble.

The three of them continued to pass the time as they sat at the bar downing beers, the sound of bodies crashing to the floor behind them mixing in with their conversations.  It was a rare and appreciated moment for Ian, sitting between his brother and the one guy he wanted more than anything, hanging out with them simultaneously.  He caught Mickey smiling into his beer a few times while he and Lip told lame jokes.  Ian thought to himself he wanted to see Mickey like this more often – relaxed, his tough guy act on pause.

And if Ian noticed Mickey’s eyes landing on his lips each time he sipped his beer, he told himself it was all in his head.

***********

When they left the Alibi, it was dusk out.  The sun was surprisingly beautiful, an orange sphere in the midst of purple, amber and blue streaks.  It was an oddity in the shitty south side; nevertheless, it was still an amazing sight.  Mickey continued to take the lead, Ian following as they made their way through side streets and alleys, silence accompanying them once more.  Mickey would glance behind him once in a while, catching Ian’s green eyes with his blue ones.  He’d nervously rub his thumb across his bottom lip, making sure to look away and break the eye contact.  They played tag of stealing glances as they beat the Chicago pavement with their steps.

They eventually found themselves under the L, sitting with their backs pressed against one of the steel beams.  Mickey had rolled two joints using the California Kush for them to smoke.  Ian intently watched him as he rolled up, getting lost in the sensation of the vibrations the passing trains made down the beams and the sight of Mickey’s tongue curling around the joint as he wet it.  It was maddening.  There was nothing Ian wanted to do more than to lean in and kiss the older boy.  His thoughts were interrupted by a lit joint being shoved in his face, Mickey already taking the first hit.  Ian inhaled deep, his chest expanding before he released the smoke.  He began to cough violently as he did this.

“Pussy,” Mickey snorted.  Ian was still coughing and halfway laughing.  He stuck up his middle finger in response.

“This is some strong shit,” the red head responded, his throat still scratchy.  “Good though.”

“Yeah.”

They sat there passing the joint back and forth as the sun set, the high taking full effect.  Ian lit the second joint after they finished the first one, taking the first hit, not coughing this time.  He passed it to Mickey, who inhaled, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back before releasing the smoke through his nostrils.  Ian followed suit, leaning his head back, turning it slightly so he was staring at the side of Mickey’s face.  He found his eyes involuntarily trailing down to the older boy’s full lips, licking his own as he glared.  The mixture of weed and his own desires made it hard for him to tear his eyes away, which could have been a mistake because Mickey opened his eyes, catching Ian mid-stare.  The dark haired boy frowned and Ian seized up, but surprisingly, Mickey’s face softened as he flashed a lazy grin.  Yeah, he was _definitely_ high.

Ian returned the gesture, smiling that lazy, slightly crooked grin he sports when he’s high – the one Mickey curses at himself to hate but secretly craves.  He studies Ian’s face, his pupils blown, freckles slightly visible under the now moonlight, his cheeks flush and his lips pink.  _Fuck._ Ian’s mouth looks so inviting.  And… _fuck._ All Mickey wants to do is lean in and take his bottom lip between his teeth.  Ian must have caught the vibes because his smile widened, exposing his perfect white teeth.

“You rethinkin’ about makin’ me an offer?”  Mickey snapped out of his daze from Ian’s comment.

“Fuck off Gallagher,” he snapped.  Ian’s face fell, and Mickey could tell he felt slightly rejected.  He hated when he looked like this.  The older boy then brought the lit joint back up to his lips and motioned with his head for Ian to lean in closer.  Confusion spread across the red head’s face, but he obliged and leaned in.  Mickey began to slowly release the smoke from his mouth and Ian quickly got the hint.  The younger boy slightly opened his mouth, sucking the smoke that left Mickey’s mouth into his own.  They had shotgun beers before, but never weed and this turned Ian on immensely.  If he wasn’t afraid, he would have closed the distance between them, pressing his lips on his.  Their lips were close – _so fucking close._ But he didn’t close the gap because he didn’t want to ruin the moment.  If actually planting one on Mickey wasn’t an option, Ian would gladly take this, kissing smoke under the L.

And if Mickey quickly wished Ian would close the gap between them, he told himself it was the California Kush.

Ian leaned back, releasing the smoke into the air.  He looked back at Mickey, that shit eating grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.  The older boy fought back a smile, but he failed miserably.

“What made you do that?” Ian asked, curious.

“Dunno,” Mickey responded.  He was looking down at his boot as he nervously kicked at rocks in the dirt.

“Well it made my dick hard.”  Mickey looked up at Ian, his face flush and clearly horny.  The older boy cocked an eyebrow then stood to his feet.

“C’mon.”  He motioned for Ian to stand to his feet and began walking, the younger boy following close behind.

“Where are we goin’?”

“To the dugout.”

Mickey didn’t have to turn to see Ian sporting that mischievous grin he always has on his face before he’s balls deep inside him.  And although he didn’t kiss the red head tonight, it was nothing a good fuck wouldn’t help push to the back of their minds.

Besides, there was always tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was inspired by a suggestion made by mollyfaraday (Tumblr). It's my version of what happens after Ian says to Mickey, "He isn't afraid to kiss me." It's some time between the comment, and the first kiss. I hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading. :)


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